The Witches of Pendle

From the moment this begins I think it's safe to say that it shows its age in terms of its production values, and some of the choices made in terms of its construction quite belie its nature as a TV movie. More than that, whether it was choices that Barry Collins made as a screenwriter, or Anthea Browne-Wilkinson as director - or for that matter, David Jackson as cinematographer - there are some facets here that are a little gauche and bring to mind low-grade, low-budget genre fare, nearly on the level of home movies. Such shots as that stare a character in the face, or free-moving handheld camerawork that puts our perspective squarely amidst a moving crowd of people, feel less like thrusting viewers into the middle of the experience and more like inexperience and uncareful craft given the overall image quality. Still, though the presentation can be rough, including persistent use of voiceovers in multiple ways, the intent is earnest, and this is well made in other regards. 'The witches of Pendle' isn't a title that demands viewership, but it's worthwhile on its own merits and a worthy way to spend seventy-six minutes.

While the concept of witchcraft is rich for storytelling, the real-life history is broadly more horrifying than what any writer of fiction can conjure. It takes little study or critical thought to understand that accusations of witchcraft were (...are) nothing more than the manifestations of misunderstandings, prejudice, scapegoating, ignorance and archaic beliefs, cruelty, and pure misogyny. Fun as it might be to summon forth a tale of black magic and sinister doings, true, disturbing horror is found in exploring the dire persecution and humiliation, bogus trials, brutal torture, and unjust execution of the accused. And so it is here: Collins' screenplay touches upon the iniquitous motivations, poor comprehension, lack of knowledge, and faulty reasoning by which women were targeted and maligned as servants of the devil, not to mention coerced confessions and frenzied madness. These, together with the specific barbarities visited upon the victims, and the sheer ferocity and venom of the proceedings, produce a spellbinding, haunting portrait and dramatization of events in England in 1612 (in in line with censorial standards of the 70s for British television). And the picture achieves this with minimal visualization of more discrete genre elements, and more so than not just the power of scenes of dialogue and acting. And that alone speaks very well of all involved.

With that having been said, I wouldn't dare say 'The witches of Pendle' is perfect. The fact is that as it presents the telling is a tad confused, for both in word, tone, and image it struggles to communicate the nuanced differences between wry sarcasm, forced and desperate statements, wishful thinking, feelings of guilt, folk beliefs, and "genuine admission." To that point, there are whole scenes that do seem to play with the notion that the accused figures of the early seventeenth century actually were witches, controverting what the feature otherwise builds. To this add the oscillating intelligence and honesty of prosecutorial figures, inconsistently wavering on a point of both fervent superstition and doubt and disbelief. For all those times when this is firing on all cylinders and is fierce and gripping because of it, there are times when the proceedings feel much more scattered and they falter considerably. Collins needed a more concise and focused screenplay, and Browne-Wilkinson needed to be more mindful and judicious in bringing the concoction to fruition. The overall substance is readily apparent, yes, but that only makes the shortcomings all the more evident and unfortunate.

All the same, for all the rough spots and edges, there is meaningful, enduring value here. Possibly even more so than the narrative at large, the chief strength lies in the intensity of each passing scene, above all those zeroing in on the accusations, interrogation, and trial of the accused. Between the scene writing and dialogue, the direction, and not least the tight, fraught, vivid performances of the actors, these moments are sincerely distressing and resonate deeply. It would be more appropriate to call this a horror-drama, partly in that it draws familiar horror elements into a more straightforward drama, but mostly in that the feelings of horror that it elicits stem rather immediately from the straightforward drama that unfolds. Inasmuch as any title can evoke such sentiments if the story is sufficiently dark and dreary (e.g., 'Apocalypse now,' or Andrzej Wajda's 'Danton'), the same goes for this one. And that's thanks to Collins and Browne-Wilkinson, and absolutely to the cast, not least to Cathryn Harrison who very much impresses in what is effectively a lead role at only 17-years old. All on hand illustrate strong acting skills to bring the harsh energy of the material to bear, and all are to be congratulated, but Harrison maybe has a larger part than anyone else, and she totally nails it.

Rounded out with superb contributions from all those behind the scenes - sets, costume design, hair and makeup, stunts and effects - when all is said and done 'The witches of Pendle' is a solid, satisfying film. It's a rather terrific credit to all involved not just for the mere fact of their work, but for how the end result so capably inculcates impactful horror from a production that leans heavily on dialogue and acting. (Why, this could easily be adapted as a stage play, if we're being honest.) It should be repeated that some of the subtitles of the scenario get lost in the mix, enough so that the quality is distinctly diminished. Yet ultimately the quality speaks for itself, and I must commend all who participated for making the movie as flavorful, absorbing, and rewarding as it is. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's a must-see, but for those with an appreciation for the topic it explores and the more outward corners of the genre, 'The witches of Pendle' is a splendid TV picture that deserves recognition.